


Rules For Being a Girl in the Zombie Apocalypse

by bethfury



Category: Zombieland (2009)
Genre: Character Study, F/M, Post-Apocalypse, Post-Zombie Apocalypse, Post-Zombieland (2009)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-21
Updated: 2009-12-21
Packaged: 2017-10-04 22:01:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/34558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bethfury/pseuds/bethfury
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"How to have a boyfriend, a guy on the side, perfect eye makeup, and fire a gun while running in knee high boots from the undead" by Wichita</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rules For Being a Girl in the Zombie Apocalypse

**Author's Note:**

  * For [rewhite](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=rewhite).



**Rule #1 - Diets are for non-apocalyptic worlds**

After finding the Twinkie and accepting that she would never get to have her Nana's fried chicken again, Wichita decided that if she couldn't have her favorite food, she would try everything else under the sun. However, in a country completely devoid of chefs, electricity, or fellow diners, she could tell this might be a short list.

But if all of your meals are followed by running for your life, she certainly wasn't going to be worried about the calorie content.

One night, they had taken refuge in a library and after disposing of the formerly adorable, now rabid head librarian, they had secured the front doors and flocked to separate sets of bookcases.

Little Rock and Columbus read Harry Potter books side by side, while Tallahassee took to the CD area to rummage for the car.

Wichita spent the night with a flashlight in the cookbook section, tearing through page after page of dishes requiring supplies beyond the frying pan and pot they used when camping outside. Desserts with fresh cream and egg custards that would require finding a coop and a barn full of cows to make. Main dishes with slabs of meat that they would never eat again unless she learned how to butcher. Salads with rosy colored beets and bright sunny carrots that weren't growing without a farmer's constant care.

She made pancakes the next morning, sitting out in a the former employees lounge with a make-shift fire pit in the center.

Luckily, the library had enough kindling to make sure the fire didn't go out.

And they were delicious, despite the numerous John Grisham novels that needed to die for them to be cooked.

**Rule #2 -  Never underestimate the power of eye-liner**

For someone that left home at 16, Wichita spent more time then she would like crying from homesickness.

It would hit her in the gut whenever the memories would sneak in.

A mannequin at a mall wearing a red sweater that she knew her mom would like, a couch sitting out on a porch the same print as in her old apartment, or even a can of Miller High-Life like her grandfather would sneak her while he was grilling. But on bad days just looking at Little Rock would do it.

This time, as she was sitting inside a dressing room in a long abandoned department store, she felt herself starting to cry over the sensation that something was really unjust about her not getting to go to a prom. Prom seemed like such a minor part of growing up, but at that moment, it was all she had to mourn for.

Columbus had asked why she never seemed to cry and she had shushed him with a kiss before he buried his face into her shoulder, shaking against her. The rest of them cried too; sometimes for days straight, driving through tears, blasting Kansas songs and repeating mantras about why people needed us to live on.

It's hard to imagine what it feels like to not lose everything, but watch it crumble around you. 

Wichita needed to be the one that didn't cry and she made sure her war paint was perfect when she left that dressing room.

**Rule #3 - Don't ask, don't tell**

She sleeps with Tallahassee on a cloudy Wednesday in a fancy hotel, after bickering with Columbus over joining them on a raid of a Walmart.

But it doesn't feel like spite, she doesn't like to think of herself as someone that would do something like that out of spite.

She had decided to sleep with him weeks earlier, catching that glimmer of mischief in his eye and deciding that maybe this wasn't a good time to limit herself to one man.

Besides, she's pretty sure something has happened between them as well, but in the same way that Columbus would never blame her, she knows well enough to not ask.

She decides to keep sleeping with him the next week, when Columbus falls asleep in the back of the car with Little Rock, and she's not ready to fall with them.

It's that night that he starts talking. About his son, about his ex-wife, about the life they had before everyone had gone on an extended dead vacation. He doesn't cry or make eye contact, he just holds her and talks about everything.

Except his name. He hasn't budged on that.

He asks her one night if what they are doing is cheating.

But it's not about cheating, or her honor, or even whatever sort of guilt she is supposed to feel.

It's about solace and even though she is one hungry zombie away from oblivion, Wichita is pretty sure that is what love is supposed to be.

She tells him that she doesn't know.

He doesn't ask again.  
**  
Rule #4 - If the opportunity arises, always get tampons in bulk**

The devil was in the details of road-tripping after the apocalypse. Zombies crowding the deodorant aisle at the supermarket, showers never having hot water, and fast food restaurants being permanently closed for business.

But nobody had prepared her for what gas station bathrooms would look like post-dead infestation and that everyone being dead still failed to put PMS in perspective. Her cramps still sucked, birth control was still a necessity, and there was no room for being dainty when you are trying to find tampons in a Costco.

"Wait, they come in sizes," Tallahassee asked in shock, looking over the list of supplies.

"Do condoms?" Wichita raised an eyebrow.

Little Rock rolled her eyes, "Girls are not barbie dolls, we are different sizes."

"I don't doubt that," Tallahassee shook his head, "I was just saying that despite the end of the world, there's still a lot to learn."

"Add a box of Twizzlers to the list," Columbus yelled out from the trailer, "And boxer briefs."

Tallahassee grabbed his rifle, before pushing the shopping cart towards the entrance, "I really know more about all of you then I think might be healthy."

**Rule #5 -  Remember your Home Ec lessons, you'll never know when you need to sew a button**

It wasn't just one day that made her realize it.

It was a series of long, hot days in Wyoming that convinced her that maybe it was time to stop searching for home and to start making their own.

A four bedroom farmhouse, three weeks to gather supplies, and a tractor for Tallahassee was all it took to get them to stop driving. But the practical parts of post-apocalyptic living is something that Martha Stewart never described in her magazine.

"What do chickens eat?" Columbus asked, staring at the coop and wandering birds in the backyard.

"Well, they aren't dead yet, so either they are zombie chickens or they eat grass," Wichita shrugged, "Since I am going to eat their eggs, I'm hoping that they aren't zombie eggs."

"Are you sure its safe?" he asked a little warily, as one of the chickens looked him up and down.

"You can go back in the house, or go find Tallahassee in the barn," she marched up to the coop, the chickens milling about her feet.

He shook his head, "I'm more scared of the cows then the chickens."

She started loading eggs into her basket, "So nearly a year on the road, killing thousands of zombies, and the chickens freak you out."

He smiled, "I think things finally feeling normal scare me more."

She poked her head out, "I'm pulling eggs out of a nest and not out of a carton, and this is normal?"

"Frontier Woman looks good on you," Tallahassee laughed, approaching with a large bucket of milk.

"I thought Zombie Killing Mercenary Girl looked good on me," she joked, inching back out of the coop.

"Oddly enough, both are equally sexy options," Columbus grinned, taking the basket from her, "Eggs for dinner?"

Wichita reached in her back pocket, pulling out a worn recipe card, holding it up for them to see.

"Nana's Fried Chicken?" Columbus asked confused, "We have chicken to eat?"

"There's an axe in the barn," Wichita pointed towards the coop, "And we have plenty of chickens to eat."

"But-" he started, before Tallahassee wrapped an arm around him and marched him towards the barn.

Wichita laughed before starting back towards the house, her family was hungry and her new rule for a zombie apocalypse was always:

_Rule #6 - If the zombies are eating well, then so are we._

 


End file.
